FOUR Grimmauld Place, version 972
by NotSoAwry
Summary: Ron and Hermione talk some more, at Grimmauld Place. Every so slightly angsty, but not really, and little bits of almost romantic moments. Reposted due to errors.
1. It really IS a Grim Old Place

Standard disclaimers ... HP and all of its bits and pieces don't belong to me and never will.

* * *

It Really IS A Grim Old Place

Ron and Hermione on their first night at Grimmauld Place. Chit-chat, that's all. Hermione's POV.

* * *

_Ron had had a fit of gallantry and insisted that Hermione sleep on the cushions from the sofa, so that her silhouette was raised above his. Her arm curved to the floor, her fingers inches from Ron's. Harry wondered whether they had fallen asleep holding hands. The idea made him feel strangely lonely._

_***_

Hermione Granger couldn't sleep, wound up as she was from the events of the day.

The wedding was so bright and colourful. So happy, full of life and love ... but the horror of infiltration still remained with her. The gnawing worry of what was surely happening to the people she loved, it had been like a knot in her gut as they made their escape.

How had they been found so quickly, out in the muggle world?

There must have been something she'd missed – a minute detail which caused so much disaster.

Those feelings were tempered by the sweet relief of knowledge, arriving in the form of Mr Weasley's patronus.

That was something, at least. They were safe. Something to dull the alarm of Harry's scar ... did he really think they wouldn't notice? It was only Ron's gentle pressure on her arm, the slight shake of his head, which had stopped her from chasing Harry into the bathroom.

"_Leave him. There's enough going on as it is."_

Ron. Infuriatingly stubborn Ron. Pig headed, insensitive, obtuse ... sweet, brave, loyal ... well built, attractive ... and lately? Unusually sympathetic and affectionate Ron.

Bloody Ron.

It wasn't helping her at all ... the way he'd suddenly be by her side, arm around her shoulders, drying her tears.

Never leaving her thoughts.

_Have I become obsessed?_

Paying her subtle compliments. Letting her know, in small ways, how much he appreciated their friendship.

It was wreaking havoc on her hard-won self-control ... and right now she needed every part of her brain to focus on the current situation.

Horcruxes. They had to find horcruxes and destroy them.

But how? That was just as much of a problem as finding them in the first place.

Her books had failed her.

Granted, her books had seen fit to share with her the types of things that could do the job.

_Dangerous. Destructive. Evil. Frightening._

Her books, however, had neglected to mention where she could find such things.

It was really quite frustrating.

And frightening. Very, very frightening.

She'd imagined them setting off in their own time, maybe a few days from now after the wedding excitement had died down – not forced to run for their lives at a seconds notice. Of course she had been prepared for just that, flight, just in case ... _you can never be too careful, after all_ ... and look what had happened.

Now she felt she was on the back foot. Where did they go from here? HOW did they go from here, if Harry had some kind of trace on him? She was happiest when there was some sort of a plan ... but even half a plan would have been nice at this point.

Find and destroy the horcruxes.

Kill Voldemort.

This was an aim, no ... not even an aim. It was a necessity. It was not a plan.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if –

"Hermione! Stop thinking so loudly, you're giving me a headache."

Her eyes snapped open and she turned to stare at Ron, only just making out his form in the dark.

"What?"

"I said, stop think-"

"I know what you said," she cut in, "it was just completely illogical."

"Maybe," Ron agreed, leaning up on one elbow, "but I can hear your brain clicking over at 100 miles an hour and it's bloody loud."

She could see the muted glean of his teeth in the darkness as he grinned at her. "Sorry then," she grinned back, "I'll try and think a little more quietly."

"No need," he said. "I can't sleep anyway. Too much going on, you know?"

"Oh, don't I know."

"So. Spill it. What brilliant conclusions have you drawn?"

"Not a damn one," she admitted, "you?"

"Less than nothing," he sat up and seemed to be looking in Harry's general direction. "At least one of us in getting some sleep."

"He's exhausted," Hermione sat up too, "I think he fell asleep immediately. Do you think he's dreaming?"

"No," Ron shook his head, "he never dreams after a – a vision. Sleeps like a log."

"How do you know?"

He snorted at that. "I've been sharing a room with him for how long now? Even I can notice a pattern."

"I wish you'd stop doing that!"

"Doing what?"

"Putting yourself down like that," she whispered fiercely, "you're always doing it."

"Am I?" Ron thought about it for a few seconds and then shrugged carelessly. "If it looks like a crup, and its sounds like a crup, it's probably a crup."

"But you're not a crup," Hermione pointed out halfway between exasperation and amusement.

"Right. Anyway. What is it that's making the gears in your head turn so loudly?"

"Oh," she sighed, "just everything. Today was a bit of a day, so to speak, and its taking me a while to wind down."

"A bit of a day?" Ron sounded amused. "That's one way to put it."

"If you're going to make fun of me ..."

"Relax, Hermione," he put his hand on her forearm, "I'm not making fun – but you have to admit it was the understatement of the century."

She couldn't help giggling. "I'll give you that."

"So?" He raised his brows expectantly.

"So ... we're not very well prepared, are we? I really wasn't expecting – well, no one was! I thought we'd be able to go in our own time! I have no idea what to do next."

"And it's driving you mental?" he shifted to her side and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Completely!" _As are YOU, right now ... but by Merlin I'll enjoy it while I can._

"And you're scared?" he guessed. When she nodded again he squeezed her shoulder. "Suddenly it's all very real and we don't have the ... the luxury! ... of planning ahead. It's time to act."

"That's it exactly!" She allowed herself to lean on him. "And people say I'm the clever one."

"Ah yes," he laughed, "but you're much more consistent."

"You're doing it again!"

"What? It's true. I don't have your brains – well, no one has, really, so I'm not sure if it counts ... and I'm not brave like Harry is. It's not putting myself down if it's fact."

"You know," Hermione began slowly, recognising the truth in his statement, "there's something to be said for being just a normal person. Do you remember fourth year?"

"Not likely to forget it, am I?" He sounded a bit grim.

"Yes, quite. Anyhow, when you and Harry weren't talking, he and I spent a lot of time together."

He said nothing.

"Don't misunderstand me," she went on, "I love Harry to bits, really ... but Merlin ... it just wasn't the same without you."

"Really?"

"Why do you sound so surprised? Given everything going on at the time, he wasn't exactly good company ... and I know I'm not the life of the party either. You might be a stubborn, insensitive wart at times," she poked him in the leg, "but you're the life of OUR party. Without you Harry would be perpetually moody and I'd be so busy with books, I'd forget to live."

"I ... well ... uh ... thanks? I don't ... well. Yeah." He took a deep breath, as if to collect himself. "You have to know you're important to me – to us – right? It wouldn't be right if we didn't have our know-it-all bookworm to keep us in order and be our voice of reason and ... well, all of that."

_Oh Ron. If only you knew._

"Anyway," his tone was suddenly brisk, "it's been a bit of a day," he squeezed her shoulder again, "and tomorrow it's time for action." He bought his other arm around and hugged her close. "Let's get some sleep."

"Yes, you're right," she mumbled into his chest, wishing she could stay right there – but it wasn't to be, his arms were loosening and he was starting to move away from her. She suppressed the urge to cling and slid back down into her sleeping bag, watching as he did the same.

"Hey, Ron?"

"Yeah?"

She reached over and took his hand. "Thanks, for the chat."

"Uh, no problem," he linked their fingers together. "Anytime."


	2. Still a Grim Old Place

Standard disclaimers ... HP and all of its bits and pieces don't belong to me and never will.

* * *

Still a Grim Old Place

The night before the trio goes on their Ministry raid, Ron can't sleep. Ron's POV.

* * *

"_You do realise, don't you, that there's probably no more dangerous place in the whole world for us to be right now than the Ministry of -"_

"_I think we should do it tomorrow," said Harry._

_Hermione stopped dead, her jaw hanging; Ron choked a little over his soup._

"_Tomorrow?" repeated Hermione. "You aren't serious, Harry?"_

"_I am," said Harry. "I don't think we're going to be much better prepared than we are now even if we skulk around the Ministry entrance for another month. The longer we put it off, the further away that locket could be. There's already a good chance Umbridge has chucked it away; the thing doesn't open."_

_***_

_Tomorrow morning._

Ron wasn't sure how he felt about this.

What was it he had heard Sirius say once?

_What's life without a little risk?_

_A little risk, aye, Sirius? Look where that got you. I wish you were here – Harry needs you. I can understand you better now, Sirius – this house is awful. Even now, with Kreacher being likable, the house is terrible. Your mother, she never shuts up. No wonder you left._

_I'm not like you, Sirius. I like being safe ... and as horrible as this place is, at least we're safe._

_Safe isn't going to get the job done, though, is it? _

_Look at this bloody room! Bloody Slytherin rubbish everywhere. Dead annoying, really. I wish Hermione wasn't coming with us. If she gets caught ... no, don't think like that. She won't get caught. She'll be fine and this time tomorrow I'll be here, lying in bed, wondering what I was so worried about._

_I'll bet she's up, going through her notes still. _

_I wouldn't say no to some treacle tart ... I wonder if there's any left._

He rolled out of bed and slipped out of his room as quietly as possible. A quick glance down the hall showed no light coming from under Hermione's or Harry's doors.

That Harry's room showed no light didn't surprise him; he knew very well that Harry was prone to laying awake, in the dark, mulling things over. Hermione's darkened room did surprise him; he really had expected her to be up reading.

Truth be told, he was slightly disappointed; he'd entertained half a thought of visiting with her for a while before going back to bed.

_Oh well, more tart for me._

You could have heard a pin drop as he padded silently through the house.

_Dreadful place. Whoever decorated it needed their head read. A troll's leg umbrella stand? Really? And all these bloody snakes everywhere ... I mean, sure, Slytherin blah blah blah, but for door handles and lights? Must have been a dead cheerful lot – no wonder Kreacher used to be such a little toe-rag._

_Hermione was right, as usual. Just show him a little bit of kindness – but even she couldn't have predicted all of that._

He used his wand to light a fire and the lamps along the walls, then went directly for the pantry.

_Excellent._

He contemplated making a nice hot cup of tea to go with the large slab of treacle tart he had cut for himself, but decided against it. _Don't want to be up and down all bloody night._

_So. _He sighed wearily as he picked up his fork. _Ministry of Magic in a few hours. Not safe. Needs to be done. Worried about Harry. Really worried about Hermione. My life in a nutshell. Bloody good pudding. Kreacher really is a genius when he tries._

"Are you going to eat all of that?"

Ron's fork clattered to the floor as he spun around in shock. "Hermione!"

"Well?" she sat beside him, slamming her notes onto the table, and leaned back into her chair.

"Wha ... oh, here," he nudged the plate toward her and summoned a fork, "have at it."

"Thanks," she nibbled at a small piece of the tart and watched him as he retrieved his own fork from the floor and wiped it on his pyjama leg. "That's disgusting," she observed casually.

"10 second rule," he shrugged, "I thought you were asleep."

She shook her head. "Reading my notes, you know ..."

"Yeah," he frowned, "but your light wasn't on; you shouldn't do that, it'll wreck your eyes."

"I was in the library," she said, looking at him with a strange expression. "Since when have your cared about my eyes?"

_Your eyes. Your nose. Your mouth. All of you. Since forever, it seems. _"Well fine," he said, affecting nonchalance, "if you end up half-blind like Harry, don't say I didn't warn you."

"That's the least of my worries right now," she muttered, stabbing at the treacle tart with unnecessary force.

"Harry's right, you know," said Ron suddenly. "There's nothing else we can do now. We're got to go in and try find the bloody thing."

She put her fork down. "I know, I know. There's just so much that could go wrong ..." she shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. "Aren't you scared at all, Ron?"

"Scared?" he laughed quietly, noting the tight lines around her mouth and the way her shoulders sat high and tense. "I'm not scared, Hermione. I'm terrified."

"You don't look it."

"I must be hiding it well then," he grinned at her. _Will you let me get away with this? _He reached out to rub the back of her neck. "Unlike some people. Bloody hell, Hermione, why do you think I'm down here? It's not because I enjoy what they've done to the place."

"Fair enough," she seemed to be relaxing under his touch, so he took a chance and started rubbing her shoulders. "I thought you were here for the food."

"That too," he agreed. _And I was hoping to see you. _"Hermione?"

"Hmmm?"

"Promise not to get mad?"

"About what?" she frowned.

"Promise first, that you won't get mad."

"The fact that you asked the question means that I probably will," she grumbled, "I'm not promising anything. What is it?"

He took a deep breath. "Do you really have to come?" he saw her frown deepen to a scowl and rushed on before she could start yelling. "I don't mean that I don't think you can do it or anything thick like that! It's just ... I mean, you're probably going to be the one who pulls it all off, in the end – so it's really NOT that I don't think you're capable, you understand that, right?"

She said nothing.

"You understand that, right?" he repeated, waiting until she nodded before he spoke again. "I'm just really worried, OK."

"And are you just as worried about Harry?" she asked, colouring slightly as she stared down at the table.

"I ... of course I'm worried about Harry," he faltered, "but it's different ..." he trailed off. _It's you. I can't stand the idea of anything happening to YOU._

"How is it different?" her voice was quiet.

_If only you knew. Would you hate me? Would it ruin our friendship forever? Is now the time to tell you the truth? That I only ever dream of you, that I can't imagine life without you in it? Is it the time to get into that conversation, with all of this ahead? I think you'd let me down gently, but everything would be weird and I don't think I could take it. Not now, when we've got so much to do._

"Ron?"

_No. Not yet. _"It's different, because ..." he cast around for something that sounded reasonable, "because we need you." He stroked her hair, "If something happens to you we've lost the brains of the operation." _And I couldn't live with myself. _

"The brains of the operation," she gave him a funny little smile, "be that as it may, I'm still coming."

"I know." With a pang of regret he let his hand slide from her hair, but still held it on her shoulder for a moment. "I can't help it if I worry."

They sat in silence for some minutes, picking at the remains of the treacle tart. When it was finally finished Ron was the first to stand.

"It's so late its early," he joked, "I'm going to bed."

"Sleep well then, Ron." She picked up her notes.

"Aren't you coming up?" _Don't do this to yourself, Hermione._

"Not yet. I'll give these another look over."

"Don't," he bit his lip, looking down at her, and was surprised to find his hands on her shoulders, "just get some sleep, OK. Come on, come up now."

She nodded reluctantly, slowly rising from her seat, and followed him through the house to the first floor. He stopped in front of her room and turned to her. _Please don't hex me, please don't hate me, please don't push me away. _"Goodnight, Hermione," he leaned down and engulfed her in a long hug, fighting the urge to press a kiss on her temple, "sleep well."

"You too," she hugged him back, surprisingly tightly, before slipping into her room and closing the door.

Back in the privacy of his room, he smiled to himself. _She didn't hex you or push you away. Maybe there's hope for you yet._


	3. Maybe not as Grim as all that

Standard disclaimers ... HP and all of its bits and pieces don't belong to me and never will.

* * *

Maybe not as Grim as all that.

Still Ron's POV.

* * *

"Ron?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin – he hadn't even heard the door open.

"That's the second time you've scared the life out of me tonight," he chuckled, "I'm going to start getting a complex."

"Sorry," she whispered, hovering by the door. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," his eyes widened as he watched her cross the room and sit on the end of his bed, wringing her hands as they rested in her lap.

He leaned over to turn on the lamp, but stopped when she said, "Please don't."

"OK," he agreed, scrambling over to sit close to her. _Why are you here? _"Is something wrong?" _Why do you do this to me? _He covered her agitated hands with one of his. _You're killing me. _"What's wrong?"

"I just wanted to say," she hesitated, "I want you to know ... if something ... happens, tomorrow ..."

"Nothing's going to happen tomorrow." _I won't let anyone hurt you._

"But if it does," she pushed on, "I want you to know that you mean a lot to me."

"You mean a lot to me too." _More than anything. _"But it's going to be ok, really. How could it not be?"

"It might not be," her voice quavered.

"Hermione," he tried to sound stern, but couldn't really pull it off, "we've been through this before."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Just make sure it doesn't happen again," he joked weakly, "now come on, it's really, really late." _Please don't run away from me. _"Do you, um ... do you want to sleep here tonight?" _I don't want to be alone. _"There's more than enough room." _Far too much room. _"I promise to keep my hands to myself." _Even if it kills me._

"You wouldn't mind?" She sounded unsure.

"Of course I don't mind!" _Please._

"OK then. Thank you."

_No. Thank YOU._


End file.
